Father Figures
by BravoKate
Summary: A study in contrasts. Spoilers for "Last Man Standing."


**Father Figures**

**Disclaimer: **NCIS does not belong to me. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N: **Just a short one-shot - my reaction to our first glimpse of Ziva's father. Spoilers for "Last Man Standing."

* * *

"Ziva," her father tells her, "Go home. Rest." She considers protesting, saying something to break the silence that has been smothering the room since she had hung up with Gibbs. But in the end, she only nods, acquiescing. It's a familiar routine.

She is nearly to the door when her father speaks again. "A kiss for your father," he prompts, and it sounds like a suggestion. An invitation, even. But they both know it isn't. Deputy Director David is familiar with only one kind of statement: orders.

She manages not to roll her eyes as she goes over to him and kisses him dutifully on the cheek, but it takes a great deal of effort. She's so tired of this charade. He holds her face between his hands and places a gentle kiss on her forehead. It looks like an affectionate gesture. That of a doting father who at last has his daughter back home with him. But the cynical part of Ziva – a part of her that seems to have grown stronger these past few months – can't help but view the gesture as possessive.

She has the uncomfortable sense that her father's unusual display of affection is just that: a display. A show. Demonstrating ownership. Indicating what is _his._ It's all she can do not to pull away.

She manages not to flinch at his touch, all the while trying to convince herself that she doesn't see anything of Ari in their father's deep brown eyes. That she doesn't hear her brother's cold, mocking voice, describing to Gibbs how his father had had his mother killed.

"Good night, Papa," she says quietly, doing, as always, what is expected of her. Keeping up the appearance of a close, loving relationship. Not for the first time, she wonders why either of them bother.

He looks her over, finally giving a nod of…she's not sure what, exactly. Not approval, not really. More like satisfaction. She starts to pull away, but he doesn't let go. She pretends not to notice the unnecessarily long grasp, the way he pulls her back, forcing her face towards his. His touch is not rough, but still there is an element of steel in his grip. She knows better than to pull away. But it only makes the resentment, the suspicion, grow all the stronger.

Once again, her father has shown how he operates. Holding on to what is his. Reaffirming his control. Making certain he's still the one in charge. She tries to tell herself that she's overreacting, that she's reading far too much into a simple request for a good-night kiss. But even in her own head, the words sound hollow. Empty.

He finally lets her go, and Ziva leaves the room as quickly as she can without seeming to rush. She pauses at the door, sparing a final glance for her father, who has already gone back to the paperwork on his desk. Some things never change.

She eases the door shut with a quiet click, wishing more than ever to once again be thousands of miles away. Because this daily interaction is almost more than she can bear. When there had been physical distance between them, she could try to forget. Focus on other things. Leave the troubling thoughts alone.

Here, though, every day is a constant reminder of why she had left in the first place. Why she had asked for a transfer. Why she had sought refuge at NCIS. She can still hear Gibbs's voice in her head. _"Do you believe what Ari said about your father?" _

And her own reply, that had said far more in its disjointedness than in its actual words. _"No. Yes. Maybe." _

It's been three years, now, and she's no closer to having a real answer to that question. Or maybe she is, and she just won't admit it. She doesn't know. And deep down, she's not really sure she wants to.

Because some days, when Eli David plays the loving and affectionate father, Ziva can feel herself starting to soften. The part of her that remembers what it was like as a little girl, feeling so safe in her father's arms, starts to surface. And at those times, she can't imagine how she could have ever suspected that Ari's claim was true.

But then, as seems to happen more and more often, there are times when Ziva can imagine it all too clearly. Times when it seems not only plausible, but likely. Almost certain. Times when she sees her father in one of his calculating moods. Moments that remind her of the lengths to which he will go, of the sacrifices he is willing to make, in pursuit of a larger goal.

It is during those times that Ziva wonders if her father even _has _a sense of humanity. Duty, yes, and honor. But compassion? Empathy? Sometimes she isn't so sure. It is during those times that Ziva isn't torn anymore. Quite the opposite. She is so deadly certain that Ari had been right about their father that she can barely bring herself to look at him.

"I miss you, too," she had told Gibbs on the phone. "All of you." And she does. Dear God, she does.

00000000

"Ziva! You're back! You're back! Yay!" Ziva grins at Abby's exuberance, and as soon as she recovers from being nearly suffocated, returns her hug with equal enthusiasm. As Abby bounces up and down, Ziva can't hold back a muffled squeal.

"Hey, Ziva!" McGee's hug is slightly more restrained, but no less enthusiastic. Ziva gives him an extra squeeze for good measure.

And then she turns to Gibbs. Somewhat to her own surprise, she doesn't even hesitate before launching into his arms. She usually isn't this physically demonstrative, and certainly not with her boss, and for the briefest fraction of a second, she is afraid that he will stiffen, or pull away.

But of course he does neither. He brings strong arms around her and pulls her close, pulling her snugly against his chest. She returns his embrace fiercely and closes her eyes as she breathes in the wonderfully familiar scents of coffee and sawdust. As he murmurs her name against her hair and rocks her back and forth, Ziva tells herself firmly that she isn't crying. Ziva David does _not _cry in the middle of the NCIS squad room.

But if perhaps her eyes are a bit damp…well, maybe that's excusable. Because though she has spent the last 127 days in the country of her birth, it is only now that she has finally come home.

* * *

**A/N: **Feedback is always welcome! I'd love to hear from you!


End file.
